Mad Quinn
by YfyF12
Summary: He wasn't crazy. He wasn't. Deep inside his humor obsessed and opinionated mind, she could tell he was just very, very smart.   HarleyxJoker
1. No Laughing Matter

Mad Quinn

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to the movie TDK and the comic series.

Origins of Harley Quinn for chapter one: Harleen Quinzel was once a career-oriented psychologist whose life took a radical turn when she chose to spend a semester interning at Arkham Asylum.

A/N: I'm taking a new approach on TDK stories. I've suddenly had a kind of fetish for Harley Quinn and the Joker. Sure I like the original Harley, but I find a more darker, mysterious side of her pretty cool. So here's my chance! I'm going to show you all just how Harley Quinn came to be! And she's not going to be a giggly girl in this one who has no brains. After all, she is Doctor Harleen Quinzel. She had to get those grades somewhere. ;) Anyway, let me know and I'll continue! I'll also try to make the chapters longer, this is only the first chapter!

* * *

Chapter one: No Laughing Matter

* * *

"Not laughing this time, huh?"

The Joker looked up from his place on the bench, meeting the police man's eye. He glanced down to see his name was Tyler.

"Look at you," Tyler continued, "back where you belong. Thought you were all tough stuff back there, didn't ya?"

The Joker sized him up. Tyler was obviously a young man with a cute baby-like face and sky-blue eyes. Too bad he didn't look like he could fight much. He sure didn't work out on a daily basis, and he looked too kind to hurt a soul. The Joker inwardly rolled his eyes. Cops these days.

"You're lucky the Batman didn't let ya go." Tyler grumbled, fixing his uniform. "He should've let you fall down. Hell, he should've run you over when he had the chance. Anyone else would've. But I guess fate has its way of bringing you to justice."

The Joker could've gagged. Justice? What did justice have to do with anything they were saying? First the cop was letting him know just how lucky he was to survive, so where did justice fit in? A typical word used by all cops.

The temptation to laugh almost made him twitch; nonetheless, the Joker remained silent. He knew better than to do anything stupid in a situation as dire as this. The cop was right. He was utterly powerless right now—hands cuffed, in a vehicle with at least three cops all carrying guns. Instead, he rolled his neck, trying to erase stiff pressure building up there by popping it. Tyler eyed him with disgust, and the Joker allowed himself to give him an innocent smile once he popped his neck just the way he wanted. "What the heck _are_ you?" The Joker heard Tyler whisper, more to himself. He probably didn't want the Joker to hear his question, but he certainly _did_ hear it. And it sent pride coursing through his veins, seeing the pure uncertainty on the young cop's face.

"I'm just a man," The Joker told him, "who has high expectations."

"High expectations?"

"Did I stutter?" The Joker splayed out his lanky legs, smacking his shoes together in a erratic rhythm.

"I swear, you make absolutely no sense." Tyler rubbed his head, obviously bothered by the confusing man sitting a few feet away from him.

The Joker slowly—oh so slowly, in an elegant sense of style—craned his neck to look Tyler dead in the eye. "That's the _point_."

They looked at each other for a few seconds. Finally Tyler muttered, "I see no point."

The Joker leaned back into the wall of the small compartment, stretching his cuffed hands. "That's the point."

"What is the damn point?" Tyler snapped. The Joker stifled a wheeze of laughter. He liked how Tyler was losing his temper here; _very_ amusing.

"The point that there _is_ no point."

Tyler apparently had enough and turned his head, breaking eye contact with the Joker. Unconsciously, he placed his hand over where his gun was. Good. It was right there. If the Joker tried to pull any moves on him, he'll be prepared.

"You're a mystery." Was all Tyler concluded. The Joker smirked.

* * *

Doctor Harleen Quinzel took a seat on the chair, crossing her legs. Her patient, Tommy, stared hard at the floor. He looked ashamed.

"Now," She started softly, pen in hand, "tell me why you attacked the nice nurse."

"I don't like her." He grumbled bitterly.

"See, just because you don't like her doesn't mean you should just attack her. I don't like a lot of people, but I definitely don't go around _attacking_ them."

"I showed her a picture of me when I was a kid. She called me ugly."

"Really?" She pushed back her glasses and wrote something down. Harleen honestly doubted a nurse would dare insult one of the patients here. But the true sincerity written plainly on Tommy's face was enough confirmation for her to doubt him. The nurse must've said something to set him off. Harleen simply decided to talk to the nurse later on.

Tommy buried his head in his hands. "I'm so _sorry_. I didn't even think when I did it. I just…"

"You acted on impulse. Whenever you ever do something, never do it on impulse. You'll almost always regret it, especially if you're mad. She really shouldn't have called you ugly, but physical contact definitely wasn't necessary." Harleen gazed at Tommy strikingly. "Now, you have to eat your lunch inside your room in result of your actions."

"Stupid nurse," Tommy complained. "I hate her!"

Harleen quickly wrote something else down. Inwardly she frowned. She was going to have a _lot_ of work to do with this guy.

"Time's up," She informed Tommy lightly, standing up. "I'll see you again tomorrow, alright?" Tommy nodded, although not looking up.

She hurried from the room, hurriedly turning the pages in her mini notebook to her next patient. Her day has been more than busy—all she did was constantly rush from room to room, visiting her usual patients. But even though it was busy, she secretly loved what she was doing. She loved talking to people with mental illness—loved trying to figure out just what made them tick. At times it was harder than others, almost like solving a difficult puzzle of some sort. But after two long years of doing it—and five years of college—Harleen decided to take on Arkham Asylum, one of the most infamous asylums in the United States. She would take a semester here, and then go back to her original asylum back at home. Oh how she was so excited! Her career was blooming beautifully, shaping into something she's never once expected.

She sighed, rushing to where her temporary office was. Daily, after she visited Tommy, it was her lunch break. And she had the sudden fetish for Chinese food.

"I'm going out to eat." Harleen said to Penny, the secretary, as she passed. She found her purse and took the white uniform off her, revealing her normal clothes beneath. Penny stared at her, and Harleen had the feeling the girl wanted to go along with her. "You're welcome to join me."

Inwardly, and feeling instantly guilty, Harleen hoped Penny would decline her invitation. She didn't really feel like having to entertain someone on her lunch. She would like to have some time with herself, to say the truth.

"I'd go," Penny said in that monotone, dreary and bored voice, "but I don't have lunch break until another hour."

"Oh." Harleen took a moment to clean her glasses with a tissue she grabbed off the counter, blowing on them to get a clear appearance.

She began to feel uncomfortable under Penny's unwavering gaze. Hesitantly giving the bored woman a smile, she swept from the room, determined to fulfill her sudden temptation of Chinese food.

* * *

"Don't you try anything," Tyler warned the Joker as he slowly closed the metal door. The Joker rolled his eyes, turning to scan his new "room" for the next months of his life.

A twin bed with a tiny pillow and small blanket lay in the left corner. The floor had a white tile, but it wasn't clean. In fact, the Joker knew better to try to sleep on it.

He crossed his arms in deep thought. That's all they give him? A _bed_? Now what could he do with _that_? They could've at least given him a window of some sort. Even the lights above him were dim and dull, adding to the room's lack of creativity.

His thoughts darkened. He couldn't stay here long. He'd _have_ to find some way to escape, for Batman was still somewhere in Gotham. His job wasn't done…yet.

"Joker," The door was suddenly swung open, and Tyler grabbed his cuffs over his hands. "Come with me. We've got a few questions for you."

"For _me_?" The Joker gave him an innocent, surprised expression.

Tyler didn't respond. He only leaded the Joker out of the room, easily closing the door closed behind him. The halls were all white—almost like a hospital—but as the Joker inhaled deeply, it had a different atmosphere. It didn't seem healthy or hospitable. This definitely wasn't a home for ill people; this was a home for _mentally_ ill people.

He frowned as he obediently followed Tyler like a puppy-dog. He shouldn't be here. He certainly wasn't mentally ill. That's reserved for the _crazy_ people, the ones that see things or hear whispers in the dark. Not him. His eyes narrowed on Tyler's back. Normally he wouldn't allow someone to talk to him like that. But for now, his life is in that man's hands. For now.

* * *

Harleen Quinzel was seated in a five star Asian buffet with a plate full of steamy fresh food sitting before her. After she placed her napkin over her lap and thanked the waiter, she dug in.

The rice was very well cooked, but she thought it tasted a bit plain. _Needs salt_, she thought after much consideration.

After she finished eating, the waiter took her money and tip, and then placed a fortune cookie over her table. Harleen checked the time. Half past noon, her lunch break was bound to end in ten minutes! She quickly thanked the man, stuffed the cookie in her purse, and scrambled out of the buffet.

Five minutes later she arrived back at Arkham Asylum, and Penny greeted her with a simple nod.

"Mr. Todd wants to speak with you." Penny told Harleen as the young doctor set her belongings down. "It's about something important."

Harleen immediately froze, her insides tensing up. Was she going to get fired? Did she do something wrong? She felt like suddenly running back out of those front doors, fear overwhelming her senses.

"You're such a drama queen." Penny noticed Harleen's nervousness. "I'm sure he just wants to go over your weekly progress."

Harleen visibly deflated. "Oh. I sure hope that's what he wants. God knows what I'd do if I lost this job…"

"Go to his office." Penny reminded her, and Harleen was quick to obey.

With trembling legs, a thumping heart, and horror-stricken features, Harleen made her way into the depths of the asylum—into the back rooms, where Mr. Todd's office was located. The lights grew dimmer, and the sounds of the patients silenced altogether as Harleen hesitantly stepped through the thin hallway.

_Just say the truth. Whatever he asks you, don't bother lying. Honesty always does the job better anyway. _

She finally reached his office, the man's name written grandly across the door. Harleen inhaled deeply before knocking, the soft sound sounding so loud in this overbearing silence.

"Come in," Mr. Todd called from within.

Harleen opened the door, and it groaned as she pushed forward. There he was—Todd sitting proudly at his desk, bookshelves adorning the background and two chairs greeting her. He looked up from his paper work to give her a welcoming yet eerie smile.

"Please," He said, "have a seat." He motioned to the two seats set before her.

Harleen sat down slowly, keeping her face void of any fear; despite the intense fear she truly felt. Mr. Todd flipped through a stack of papers for a moment, and after a few antagonizing moments, he found the paper he was looking for. He laid it out in front of him, ceasing the wrinkles for a moment.

"How do you like Arkham Asylum so far?" He asked.

"I love it."

"I'll bet it's a bit more challenging than the one you're accustomed to." Mr. Todd looked over the paper with a mere glance. He nodded. "You come from a small town."

"Yes I do. I love taking on challenges, Mr. Todd. This is my most beloved one so far."

"You have another six weeks here. What do you plan on doing?"

Harleen crossed her legs, searching quickly for a logical answer in her brain. "Well Tommy still needs some work to do—I'm not that quite finished with him yet. And Sadie, she continues to _think_ that Beatle song was an omen of some kind, and it plagues her mind almost daily. I—"

"—please excuse my interruption," Mr. Todd abruptly cut her off in mid-sentence, "but what I meant was: how would you _personally_ like to spend your remaining time here in Arkham?"

For once in a long time, Harleen was at a loss for words. She stammered nervously, gripping onto the edges of the chair for comfort. "I, uh, I'd like t-to finish on a strong note, I guess."

Mr. Todd smiled, obviously approving her answer. "You're a _very_ intelligent woman, Dr. Quinzel."

"Please," Harleen grumbled, "just call me Harleen."

"We had something very interesting happen today." Mr. Todd began, sitting straighter in his chair. Harleen could sense something big—something _important _—approaching. "We got a new patient."

"Oh?" Harleen instantly perked up, generally interested beyond words. "Who is he?"

"The very man that has been terrorizing Gotham." He paused. "The _Joker_."

Harleen felt her stomach flip. The _Joker_? How in the world did they ever even manage to _find_ him—let alone encage him?

"He's right here in Arkham." He explained, watching Harleen's face intently. He looked like he was searching for something. "I don't mean to frighten you, Harleen, but he's only a few halls down from us."

Despite her courage and strong mind, Harleen felt true fear quake through her soul. The Joker? Only a few halls from _her_? Oh how terrifying that was! Sure she's only seen him on the news every now and then, seeing her busy schedule and distance from Gotham, but even she knew the Joker wasn't just anyone. He was very frightening, even to a grown _man_.

"Does that scare you?" Mr. Todd asked quietly. "At all? Whenever I told anyone this, they walked out of the room. I must say, Harleen, I'm _impressed_. You haven't shown one ounce of fear—none."

Harleen's hands were trembling. She inhaled softly before speaking. "Excuse my manners, but what does this have to do with me?"

"I want you to meet someone." Mr. Todd suddenly stood up, and Harleen turned over her shoulder to see the door open. "Dr. Harleen Quinzel, this is Mr. Arkham—the man that owns this entire asylum."

Harleen felt her cheeks redden as an elderly man walked into the room, a stern and ripened face meeting her own. Icy blue eyes looked down at the fearful young woman, and she felt as if he were looking into her very soul.

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel," He spoke hoarsely, as if he hadn't used his voice in a long time. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Harleen felt like she was about to faint. The very man that owned this entire facility just _complimented her_?

"I looked over you progress for the first week," He began, taking a seat next to her. His previously stern expression was replaced with an impressed, giddy smile. "And I must commend you on your progress! You're progressing at a rather _magnificent_ rate! Only on very rare occasions have I seen such improvement. You're helping our patients so much—teaching them so many things that it's unbelievable."

Harleen struggled to breath. She felt as if she was on the TV show where they played pranks on people to see their reaction.

"I can tell you're a dependable, strong young woman." Dr. Arkham probed. "I can see the determination swarming around you. I like that; I really do."

"T-thank you."

"I'm not going to be modest here, so please excuse my lack of reasoning. Dr. Harleen Quinzel, you are the finest doctor working here in this asylum at the moment." Dr. Arkham told her brightly. Harleen felt like the wind was knocked out of her lungs. This couldn't be happening. This had to be a dream.

"Like I just said, I've been watching you. You've grown wonders." Dr. Arkham sat back in his seat, glancing over at Todd, who was watching the display with a proud smile. "You are, quite literally, the very hero Gotham needs right now."

Harleen's mouth went agape. "Pardon me?"

"The Joker is already settled in one of these rooms." He told her casually. "He's in confinement. Gotham is safe for the time being. It's up to _you_ to help Gotham."

"Dr. Arkham," Harleen whispered in shock and misunderstanding, "I-I don't understand what you're saying."

"It's obvious Batman won't kill the Joker." Dr. Arkham told her softly. "So that's where _you_ step in."

"Me?"

"Yes you. You're going to become the Joker's doctor and figure him out. Solve his mysterious past—find out his true identity, past, relations….anything. Dr. Quinzel, you'd be a big help if you did this."

"B-but I know so many other doctors that have much more experience—"

"—and they all went running out of the room when Mr. Todd even mentioned the Joker's arrival. You have the nerve—the strength to endure the Joker. I know you can do it! You're the only one here, Dr. Quinzel."

Harleen felt like she was put on the spot. She wondered what would happen if she simply walked out. Would she get fired? Is she being forced to do this?

"Now you don't have to do this." Dr. Arkham told her. "You could simply walk out of this very room right now, and continue on with whatever you were doing. But is that what you truly want to do? Wouldn't you like to treat the very man that made his way through so many heads? Wouldn't you like to become _famous_? Yes, famous. You'd be on the news so many times—become known around this entire country—because of your courageous actions upon taking this challenge. Also, I know you're not the kind of girl to have an ordinary job. You don't match the description. You look like the kind of girl that tackles challenges and fights back at them."

Harleen simply stared back at him.

"When you come to work tomorrow," Dr. Arkham said in a suddenly dismissive tone, standing up, "meet Mr. Todd and let him know you're decision. I'll be eagerly awaiting your choice. Good day, Dr. Quinzel."

* * *

A/N: Sorry there's no Joker and Harley stuff in this, but I wanna build Harleen's character first! Stay tuned for more :)

~YolandaFriella


	2. Questions and Answers

Mad Quinn

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to the movie TDK and the comic series.

Origins of Harley Quinn for chapter two: Harleen Quinzel was once a career-oriented psychologist whose life took a radical turn when she chose to spend a semester interning at Arkham Asylum.

* * *

Chapter Two: Questions and Answers

* * *

"…and we are all pretty shocked to finally see the Joker in bars that it's a little mind boggling." Rick Kenny said over the TV, glancing momentarily down at a few papers on his desk. "We also have a very important guest here on the show. Say hello to James Gordon, one of the police officials who had to deal with this entire charade from the very beginning."

Harleen Quinzel munched nervously on her granola bar as she watched James Gordon walk on the screen, sending Rick Kenny a polite smile. At first glance, the intelligent psychiatrist could tell Gordon was a person who would make a wonderful role model. He seemed very brave after going through everything between the Joker and Batman.

"Hello Rick," Gordon greeted with a firm handshake. "It's truly an honor to be here."

He then seated himself on the seat across Rick Kenny. Harleen noticed how he ran his hand through his hair—an obviously nervous gesture.

_Wow,_ she thought in wonder. _He's nervous. The very man that went through brave fights had stage fright. _

"You look like a relaxed man." Rick stated bluntly.

Gordon chuckled. "I _am_ relaxed."

"You should be. The Joker's finally caught and in custody, and Batman hasn't been seen for awhile."

"See," Gordon suddenly sat up, his relaxed composure switching to a stiff jolt, "I'm definitely not relaxed about the Batman."

Rick blinked. "Really?"

"Believe it or not, Batman works in mysterious ways."

"Care to elaborate?" Rick obviously looked confused. Harleen agreed with him. Everyone knew the Batman killed Harvey Dent the same night the Joker was captures. Batman was a criminal just as much as a hero!

"I don't understand the things he does. I don't even know who's under the mask, Rick, but I know that Batman certainly didn't approve of the Joker."

"That's true."

"And, I know he broke his one rule for killing someone—especially Harley Dent, but there had to be some kind of logical explanation for him doing that. He fought against the Joker so hard to keep that one rule. He even almost got _killed_ himself so he wouldn't kill the _Joker_. It just doesn't make sense to just kill Harvey Dent for no motive."

"Are you saying that Dent must've the Batman, in turn, getting killed?"

"I said nothing of the sort. What I'm saying is that we're jumping onto conclusions too quickly. We're not looking at the whole picture. I know for a fact that the Batman is a very smart individual, whoever he is. It just doesn't…all fit together."

"So you're investigating all of this right now?" Rick laughed dryly. "How do you look so relaxed? It's obvious you're under a lot of pressure lately."

"Hey, pressure is an everyday thing. You learn to get used to it." Gordon grinned at Rick easily, easing down by the second.

"Let me ask you, where is the Joker being held right now?"

Gordon licked his lips. "We…well its obvious the Joker has some…mental illness. And he's way too unstable to keep in a jail cell, judging by what took place the last time. So we sent him to Arkham Asylum, where there's no possible way he could break out. He won't be kept with other prisoners, and will have little freedom as possible."

"But Arkham Asylum is where the most…" Rick paused to think of the right word. "Excuse my choice of words, Officer Gordon, but that's where all the _craziest_ people are. Is the Joker _that_ nuts?"

Gordon shifted in his chair. He seemed unsure of his reply. "Rick, have you ever seen the Joker?"

"Of course."

"No, I mean in _person_?"

Rick hesitated. "No. I've only seen him on television."

"Now let me tell you something," Gordon started gravely, "I've dealt with drug addicts, gangs, mobs, drug dealers…_terrorists_. But out of all of these, uh, _categories_ of criminals, none of them could even compare to the Joker. I've seen many frightening situations, but the things the Joker did were downright inhumane and…_crazy_. Drugs addicts will do anything for drugs. But that's all they want—drugs. Gangs do their little missions, but mostly for money, as well as the mob. And terrorists are just hungry for power. But the _Joker_? Even after all these days, I still don't know what he truly wants from us. His motive is a mystery—I still don't know his name, age…anything. He's definitely worse than anyone—anything I've seen in all my experience of working with the police."

Rick nodded. "You're right. The Joker sure seems to be skilled when keeping his true identity secret. But why do you think he wants to hide his true identity? He sure seems to be proud of saying he was the Joker and all. So what's the difference?"

Gordon sighed. "I-I don't know. I really don't know. But you know what, Rick? That's another reason why the Joker's in Arkham. So some skilled, smart psychologist can evaluate him and find out just _what_ the Joker is. I'm positive someone can uncover his motive or name."

"I wonder who the person will be."

"Dr. Arkham told me that he'll let me know as soon as he finds out. But I'm sure whoever he picks, seeing his years of experience dealing with employees, that they'll be an _expert_ in dealing with someone like the Joker."

"Good, I—"

Harleen switched off the TV, eyes wide. She had her now vacant granola bar wrapper crumbled in her hand, squeezing tightly as she stared blankly at the empty screen. She could see her mirrored image staring back at her.

_I-I can't do this,_ she thought in a panic. _I can't treat the Joker. He's too much for me—I'm just an intern! How could they even think about asking me to do such a drastic, no, __**dynamic**__ job? _

Harleen turned her attention away from the TV when she heard something loud—like a dish of some sort—clash from the window. Someone must've had a little accident next door.

_Next time I won't choose this hotel. Good thing I only have three weeks left before going back to where I started. No way am I staying here, and no way will I treat the Joker. _

Her mind made up, Harleen wandered into the kitchen and threw away her trash. She nearly laughed aloud. How could she even _consider_ treating the Joker? How stupid could she get? Now if Dr. Arkham threatened her entire job, she might reconsider. But if he actually gave her a choice, she'll decide on what's best for _her_.

Now relaxed, Harleen returned to her place on the couch and casually switched the TV back on. However, she let out a tiny squeak when the TV showed what it was showing.

The Joker.

"Look at _me_!" Harleen's eyes nearly popped from their sockets when she saw the one of the Joker's victims, a Batman impersonator, being tortured. She remembered the first time she saw this on the news—she never thought much at the time, though. Her mouth dropped open. Heck, even his very _voice_ gave her shivers. She quickly grabbed the small blanket besides her and wrapped it around her for warmth. "You see, this is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want order in Gotham. Batman must take _off_ his mask and turn himself in. Oh, and everyday he doesn't, people will die. Starting tonight. I'm a man of my _word_."

She nearly turned off the TV again when the clown busted into a wild fit of laughter, the entire screen shaking. The news came up again, but Harleen droned everything out. In fact, she re-winded the footage back to the scene and watched it again. And again. And again.

_His eyes,_ she thought in horror, too dumbstruck to even move as she dazed at the screen like a broken doll. She felt all the energy drain from her body. _His mind…I can't understand what he means! Why does he want Batman to take off his mask? Why should it matter to him? And how did Batman make Gotham crazy? Sure I'm not Batman's biggest fan and all, but that makes absolutely no sense to me. _No matter how hard Harleen thought over the Joker's actions, she simply couldn't come up with any motive or plan.

_Why does he do what he does? Why does he kill? Why does he wear makeup? And why does he dress as a clown? _

Suddenly, it dawned on her. All these never-ending questions flashed in Harleen's mind. Curiosity was playing a big role at the moment, taking its rightful toll on her mind.

_What is his real name? Certainly it can't be the Joker. How old is he? He looks like he's about 28 or 30. Does his hair really have a tint of green in it, or does he dye it like that?_

Wait.

Harleen jumped up, a weird sensation bubbling up within her. What if she _did_ treat the Joker, and succeeded in finding out all these questions? Gotham would _honor_ her—and she'd definitely become a professional psychologist! Heck, she might even get to have her own office here for solving the mysteries of the man!

Harleen smirked to herself, imagining the entire city of Gotham pronouncing her as their new _"hero_".

"The Woman Who Figured The Joker Out."

"Doctor Quinzel—the woman who looked inside the Joker's mind."

Besides, how hard could it be? Ask the guy a few questions a day and get _paid_. All she had to do was get a little progress done each day. And she knew she was talented when it came to getting to people. She could persuade a gay guy to become straight—and vise versa! Who says she couldn't find out the Joker's real name?

She slowly sank back into her chair, that scheming smirk still evident on her face. What started out terrible was blooming into something that could be the climax of her "dream" career.

* * *

A/N: Ahhh sorry for the long time for an update! I'll be updating this story a lot now, because I'm really getting into it. Gotta warn you guys, the next chapter will have a LOT of Joker in it, and a special meeting between the two ;) Please review!

~YolandaFriella


	3. Doctor Quizel

Mad Quinn

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to the movie TDK and the comic series.

Origins of Harley Quinn for chapter three: Harleen Quinzel was once a career-oriented psychologist whose life took a radical turn when she chose to spend a semester interning at Arkham Asylum.

* * *

Chapter three: Doctor _Quizel_

_

* * *

_Gotham's residents had woken up at the crack of dawn.

Meanwhile, the Joker stayed trapped within a room.

He sat, leaning against the wall, his knees pulled up and tucked underneath his chin; his hands tapping aimlessly on the rough fabric of the pants they made him wear; his eyes were trained steadily at the wall directly across from him—the plain, white, colorless wall that seemed to stare right back at him.

_How remarkable,_ he marveled. _This room is like a mirror. That wall seems to be directly in front of me, yet it's behind me, to my left, and also on my right. That's the only thing that can possibly be in more than two places at once. _

He had succeeded in keeping his mind preoccupied over the long night. However, as he heard other patients in other rooms nearby wake up, he lost his train of thought. More than once had he lifted an eyebrow as he listened intently as someone began screaming bloody murder from their sleep, most likely just escaping a terrible nightmare that just seemed too real. And more than once he turned his attention to the door when someone took a patient past his room, crying pitifully or screaming excruciatingly loud. The night surely was calmer than the day, that's for sure.

The Joker felt ready for anything. Since he kept his mind away from the thoughts of having to attend a daily session with some shrink, he was able to keep in control. And he definitely wasn't looking forward to visiting some doctor who thought they knew it all.

To the Joker, psychiatrists were nothing but arrogant doctors that think they're able to _see_ more than the normal doctors can. That they have a special, unique privilege of asking personal questions to complete strangers, while not having the slightest amount of affection for them. They think they can understand what goes on in a person's mind. What makes them _tick_.

The Joker narrowed his eyes. If there was one thing he hated more than _squealers_, that would be _know-it-alls_. And psychiatrists were the worst.

Money. That's the only reason why they "care" about treating their patient. Because of _money_, they _act_ like they actually _care_ about what goes on in the person's mind. About their mental mentality, not because they actually want to help them. Only because of what they get in return—a few pieces of green paper.

_Oh,_ the Joker nearly gagged, _how disgusting. Money. A manipulating factor that takes toll so easily on people. Influences how they run their so-called life. Why spend your entire life working to get a few stacks of paper, when the next day, you spend it all? _

The Joker scoffed. _And they say __**I'm**__ the crazy one here._

_

* * *

_

Harleen grabbed a quick breakfast before she left the house; a toast with butter adorning its features, and a cup of hot chocolate. She wasn't the type for coffee—she despised the mere substance.

She felt unusually anxious. Like something was building inside of her stomach, to the point that the pressure would be too great and just _POP_. And the weather didn't help either. Heavy, dark clouds made the surroundings dreary and lifeless. She ate without feeling full, and her hands were trembling as she held onto the steering wheel to her vehicle. Something big was going to happen. She could _feel_ it.

Not before long, she found her usual parking spot located in the way back. She took her time getting out of the car, double checking her appearance, going over her image of her conversation between Dr. Arkham and herself in her mind.

Finally, she stopped herself and inhaled deeply.

_Calm down. You haven't been this nervous since you went to prom! _

Still feeling slightly uneasy, Harleen forced herself to hurry into the building before she backed down. Penny greeted her with a loud pop of her gum-bubble.

"Morning," Harleen greeted breathlessly, laying her belongings down. She quickly found her uniform and wrapped it around her.

"You look different." Penny said bluntly, without looking up.

Harleen shrugged her off, her attention focused on tying the sash around her waist. She frowned. Last week she definitely didn't remember being this…or having this _fat_. Was she getting fat? Of course she exercised regularly; she just wasn't a star athlete or anything. Maybe she'd have to stay off the bread…

"Why are you so nervous?" Penny demanded, finally gazing at Harleen with her hard stare. "You look really pale. And that's saying _something_, because girl, usually you're really white."

_Thanks,_ Harleen thought.

"Oh I didn't notice how white I was." Harleen grumbled, unknown to Penny. "I'm not nervous."

"Your nose is getting bigger."

"Really—I'm fine. I don't even know why we're having this conversation."

"Harleen—"

"—I mean, look at _me_! I'm perfectly fine, right? I'm the definition of _fine_. If you asked me at this exact moment in time, I would look you in the eye and tell you that I'm the perfect example of pure fine. Seriously! I mean, ever heard of that show where they ask you questions or whatever and they can tell when you're lying with that lying machine? Well if you asked me if I was fine on there, the machine would agree that I was telling the truth. I'm the prime form of _fine_. I—"

"—okay, I may not be a psychologist like you but even I know you're lying." Penny cut in on Harleen's rant. Harleen went dead silent, breathless for a moment. "Tell me why you're so nervous."

"I'm not nervous." Harleen squeaked. She froze. _Did I just squeak? _

"Oh I get it!" Penny slammed her hand on the table out of the pure realization. Harleen simply stared at her, wondering if Penny actually understood. "You're scared."

"Scared?"

"Yeah. That the Joker was brought here yesterday."

The entire room went silent. Penny was smiling triumphantly—thinking she single handedly found out what was making the professional doctor so edgy—while Harleen found herself frowning.

_Well…that's part of the reason. _

"Sure." Harleen grumbled, not bothering to tell the secretary the whole story.

"It's alright, girl." Penny waved her hand offhandedly, fixing a ring on her index finger. Harleen had to admit—the stylish rings looked flattering on the girl's dark skin. "He's locked up. There's no way he could get out."

_That's not what I'm worried about…_

"Good." Harleen whispered, finally getting herself together. Well, sort of.

The phone rang on the desk and Penny answered it. Harleen turned her attention on her glasses, which were getting foggy again.

"Mr. Todd wants to talk to you. Again." Penny said. "What'd you do? I mean, he just spoke to you yesterday."

"It's nothing." Harleen brushed back her hair from her face, feeling sophisticated and prepared for anything. She attached her glasses to her face, barely giving a glance to the oh-so curious Penny.

"Good luck," Penny called right before Harleen disappeared into the depths of Arkham Asylum again.

* * *

The Joker was getting annoyed.

_Who's the guest here?_ He glanced around. _Oh. That's right. I am. I'm the guest. What kind of host doesn't bring their guest anything to eat? I've been here all night, and almost all morning, yet I get nothing? The nerve of some people these days. _

He inwardly smirked. _Maybe I could teach 'em a lesson…_

_

* * *

_

"Mr. Todd?" Harleen hesitantly stepped into his office once more, seeing the man hunching over his papers. She pushed back her glasses, and briefly made sure her hair was in its bun like it was before.

_If you look strong, you can be strong_, she assured herself.

"Why hello Miss Harleen," He greeted courteously. "I've been waiting to talk to you."

"Same here."

"Dr. Arkham couldn't make it today," He told Harleen calmly. "He had some private affairs to attend. He sends his apologies, though."

"Oh…"

"So did you come up with an answer?" Mr. Todd persisted, offering Harleen an encouraging grin.

"I thought about it all day yesterday." Harleen admitted softly. "And eventually, I decided…on doing it."

"That is wonderful news! I'll send word to Dr. Arkham immediately." Mr. Todd began trying away on his computer, an overjoyed grin adorning his usually calm features. "Also, the press would love to know that you're doing it. You know, the news and such."

"Yes I know. I watched some of it yesterday."

He glanced at her. "Oh. Not a big fan of it, huh?"

"You can say that."

"When Dr. Arkham returns, which will be either tomorrow or the next day, we'll talk to the press. He'll be very proud to announce that you'll be treating the Joker."

Harleen inwardly cringed. Ugh. Just the _name_ sent shivers down her spine.

_Forget about being scared! Toughen up, Harleen! This is your career on the line! _

Mr. Todd suddenly straightened up and clapped his hands together. "So…would you like to talk to him today?"

Harleen nearly passed out.

"W-what?"

"You know, introduce yourself to him and such. I can get him in a room and everything; you don't have to go directly into his room. And he'll be handcuffed, so there's no possible way he can hurt you." He grinned. "Besides, you'll have to see him sooner or later."

"Where is he?"

* * *

The Joker slowly craned his neck when the knob on his door began turning and keys unlocked it. His eyes watched as it swung open, and two uniformed men rushed in.

"Well hello there," The Joker drawled calmly.

"Get up," The first guy ordered gruffly.

"Excuse me?"

Without another word or warning, they grabbed him by the arms and shoved him into the wall. The Joker rolled his eyes as they began handcuffing him.

"Is this necessary?" He asked when they finally got them on. Still holding onto his arms, they began leading him from his room. The Joker definitely didn't like how they handcuffed him—his hands _behind_ his back.

_I don't like this. Not. One. Bit._

"Aw I don't want to leave my room." The Joker paused before they shoved him out into the hallway. Without the balance of his arms, the momentum sent him flying into the wall painfully.

"See?" He shook his hands from behind. "I'm _useless_ with these on."

"That's the point."

The men took hold of his shoulders and began taking the Joker down the hallway. Grumbling under his breath, the Joker was most certainly not a happy camper.

_First they burst into __**my**__ room, tell __**me**__ what to do, and then have the nerve to __**handcuff**__ me! Some hosts! _

"Ya know," The Joker finally started, "because of all your hostility, you never told me where we're going."

"You're going to meet your new doctor."

The Joker's mood darkened even more. "Ya mean a psychiatrist?"

"Yeah."

He let his head hang limp, his hair covering the most part of his face. The Joker inhaled deeply, inwardly counting to ten.

"Oh isn't this _my_ lucky day."

* * *

"He's right in that room." Mr. Todd told Harleen as they approached a long glass. Harleen hesitated, quickly averting her gaze away from it to look at her boss. "You're welcome to go in any second. Have a look first, though. I don't want you to faint or anything when you get in there."

"I won't faint." Harleen insisted, feeling her cheeks blaze in return. Sighing, she finally looked through the glass, the special glass that if you were on the inside, you can't see outside of it.

There he was.

Mr. Todd kept true to his word. The Joker sat in a metal chair, looking miserable as ever with his hands tied behind his back. He held an irritated expression, his eyes roaming around the room every given second as if he knew people were watching him. His hair was wild as ever, wilder than Harleen's ever seen on tv for the matter. His legs were splayed out before him, and Harleen took in his long, lanky form for a moment. Never has it occurred to her that the Joker wasn't a short man—he was actually tall. But the odd thing was, was that the Joker held no makeup today. And even from this glass, Harleen could see the scars lining by his mouth—almost like the smile of the Chesire Cat.

"Go on," Mr. Todd whispered. "You can do this, Harleen."

Harleen glanced behind her. That was the first time he's _ever_ said her first name.

Which, in fact, was a big deal. A sign of him knowing her better.

Harleen reached for the knob on the door. She paused. Should she do this? Once she opens this very door, her fate would be sealed. This problem would belong to her. This entire responsibility would be in _her_ hands. She would no longer be able to take her job as a normal job.

Gotham's most vicious, mind-boggling criminal would be her top priority. The entire city would count on her. She would become known, renounced only as the woman would treated the Joker.

She frowned. And what if this turns out badly? If somehow something went deathly wrong? What then? People would absolutely _hate_ her. Kids would look down on her—without even truly knowing who she was. Parents would tell their kids how terrible she was, how _crazy_ she was. How she failed at this important, vital task at hand. How she let Gotham fall on her knees…

But then again, if she succeeded in treating the Joker, everyone would _love_ her. Kids would think of her as some kind of hero. Grown women and men would look _up_ to her. She'd get her own office probably here in Arkham—America's best known asylum! Oh think of the wonders she would experience, the _money_ she would receive. She would be able to go back to her parents and look them in the eye, to tell them how much of a wonderful woman she grew up to be. That she was no longer than immature teenager they still thought she was. Instead of cheating on tests, going out to party with total losers, and spending more time out at Football games, their daughter would become a _hero_. This time, they'd be able to be _proud_ of her. To smile at her.

_To smile at me…_

"Harleen?" Mr. Todd's whisper brought Harleen from her inner thoughts. She instantly snapped out of her contemplations and just literally ripped the door open like a frantic, crazy woman.

She strolled in like she didn't have a care in the world; as if she owned all this. She did. She was an intelligent woman—and this was her prime state.

But as her eyes fell on the man in front of her, she stopped dead in her tracks.

_Bad idea…._

From the windows of her glasses, Harleen peered down at the eyes of a man who joyfully watched helpless victims die under his hand.

She felt as if all the air in her lungs suddenly vanished. And the sound of the door closing behind her echoed in her ears like a thousand bells.

_I-I can't do this. I can't! I need to get out of here! _

She urged her legs to move—the get her out of here. The air around him was too…compelling. Frightening.

_Intimidating. _

Even Harleen Quinzel knew it was a bad sign if she was intimidated by her own patient.

Normally she would've used her notebook to shield her face in a defensive manner, but then Harleen noticed her notebook wasn't with her.

She was only introducing herself.

"Ya know," The Joker spoke, his voice sounding like a lion in a lion's den. "I think you're in the wrong room."

"N-no." Harleen stammered, inhaling so loudly and sharply that the Joker made a face. She forgot to breath.

_How can someone forget to breath?_

"This is what you call being blank with a capital B." The Joker grumbled. "Let me guess. You're my new doctor."

"Yes. Oh, yes I am." Harleen took a few deep breaths before hurrying to her chair across from Joker. She thanked God for whoever set the table in between them. Her eyes locked onto her hands as she folded them on the table—trying to portray a relaxed manner—but even then she felt the Joker's eyes looking at her.

An odd sensation rippled through her. But she couldn't explain it. Not now; not yet.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

"What?" Harleen stared at the Joker, who guarded his face proficiently.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

Harleen shook her head, slowly feeling calmer by the second. _He's trying to confuse you. Don't let him do it. _

"Well, anyway, you can work on your poems later." Harleen almost smiled. She was sounding more and more like herself. "But right now, I came here to introduce myself. Like you guessed earlier, I am your doctor."

"Knew it."

"And you're my, uh, new patient."

"Obviously."

Harleen's patience was wearing out by his sarcastic remarks. So she decided to just jump for the kill.

"My name's Harleen Quinzel. But I want you to call me Doctor Quinzel."

"Alright Doctor _Quizel_."

Harleen blinked. "It's _Quinzel._"

"I know, _sir_."

Harleen cracked a bitter smile and the Joker suddenly broke out in a fit of laughter.

"Ya know," He wheezed, "you're a _hit_. Normally I don't do that to people, but I just couldn't help it!"

Harleen ignored his laughter, which was _very_ disconcerting. "So what's your name?"

The Joker silenced and simply smiled. "Well, uh, I doubt anybody _doesn't _know my name."

"Oh aren't you conceited." Harleen froze. She would've never talked to another patient like that. The Joker looked a little taken aback by her attitude as well, seeing that she was teasing him. Like he was a normal person.

_Get yourself under control. You need to be a person he looks up to…_

_Yeah. This is gonna take a __**lot**__ of work._

"I know your 'nickname' is the Joker. But what's your _real_ name?"

"I already said it."

"No you didn't. You said your nickname. Did your parents literally sign your birth certificate with 'the Joker' or did they put a _normal_ name?"

The Joker shrugged, relaxing visibly. Harleen wondered why he looked so smug. "I don't have a birth certificate."

"Why not?"

"Because I burned it."

Harleen paused. "Why?"

"Because…" The Joker closed his eyes as if feeling intense pleasure. Harleen frowned. "You come to learn that just about _anything_ can burn."

The two simply gazed at each other. The Joker was solemn and without a trace of playfulness—Harleen was of confusion, simply wondering _how_ she would ever truly grasp why the Joker was so…confusing.

_Okay, you introduced yourself. You can learn his name later._

"We'll talk about this later." Harleen stood up abruptly, nearly knocking her chair down. "Till then, Joker."

"Sure thing, Doctor _Quizel_."

* * *

A/N: Ah ha! Their first introduction ;) Hope I didn't make it too weird or anything! Please leave reviews! :) It makes my dayyyyy people! Also if you want anything cool to happen, let me know and I shall think about it :D

~YolandaFriella


	4. Free

Mad Quinn

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to the movie TDK and the comic series.

Origins of Harley Quinn for chapter four: Harleen Quinzel was once a career-oriented psychologist whose life took a radical turn when she chose to spend a semester interning at Arkham Asylum.

* * *

Chapter Four: Free

* * *

After the interesting introduction with her latest patient, Harleen found it difficult to even stand.

Mr. Todd met her with a shrewd smile. "I'm quite curious to what your thoughts are on," He cleared his throat, "The Joker."

Harleen ran her hands down her outer robe, leveling the wrinkles. She honestly didn't know what to think. "I have a long way to go. Both of us do."

"I can tell the introduction wore you out." Mr. Todd commented courteously. "So feel free to have the rest of the day off."

Harleen visibly deflated. She actually looked forward to working. She wouldn't have to think too much. Working would keep her mind busy. Instead, now she'd be stuck in her hotel room—going over every little thing the Joker said to her.

Her boss noticed her troubled look and misunderstood her. "Don't worry about Sadie and Tommy. You're no longer their doctor. Since the Joker is obviously the most challenging patient here at the moment, I decided to relieve you of Tommy and Sadie. We have plenty of other doctors to care for them."

Harleen was horrified. "_What?_ I can't just abandon my patients. Please excuse my manners, but Mr. Todd, I refuse to leave them."

Mr. Todd's smile disappeared. "I strongly suggest you to devote your time on the Joker, Doctor Quinzel."

Even Harleen could tell that Mr. Todd would give her no choice. But that didn't mean she couldn't try to talk him out of it.

"What if I divide the time up?" Harleen proposed. "You know, give each one of them the same amount—"

"—The Joker is Gotham's main priority at the moment." Mr. Todd cut in. He absorbed Harleen's terrified eyes and frowned sympathetically. "You're welcome to visit them, that is, when you have time."

Harleen didn't know what to say. Her vocal chords felt frozen. Her lips were dry. It was suddenly hard to swallow.

It was hard to even _think_.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Harleen said shakily, hurrying out of the room. Just as she closed the metal door behind her, she let a single tear slide down her cheek.

Penny immediately took notice of Harleen's crestfallen expression when Harleen was unbuttoning her white robe.

"What's with you?" Penny asked.

"Nothing." Harleen muttered.

"You look like somebody died. Who died? Someone related to you?"

_Oh I wish._ Harleen froze. Since when did she think such ugly thoughts, especially about her family? Even though Harleen rarely ever found herself missing her parents, she would never wish they would die. What was wrong with her?

She felt like slapping herself. And then instantly felt confused of the violent thought.

"Mr. Todd won't let me take care of Sadie and Tom anymore." Harleen confessed moodily. "But I-I can't just _leave_ them! I spent all that time with them—focused on nothing but helping them, and now I have to leave them! All that time was wasted. For _nothing_."

Penny blinked. None of this information seemed to affect her, much to Harleen's disappointment. The young doctor thought she could at least talk to someone who could understand. But all she got was someone who cared more about makeup and hair products.

"So basically, you're fired?" Penny asked bluntly.

Harleen nearly fainted. "Oh no way! I'm taking care of someone else now."

"Who?"

"Apparently someone big." Harleen sighed. "I need to get home and get some rest. I think I'm just gonna stay in bed all day." _Yeah and hide under the covers like a baby. _

"No, no, no," Penny gave Harleen a crazy look. "Girl, I know _exactly_ what you need. When was the last time you went out?"

"I went to a Chinese restaurant yesterday."

"No, not _that_. But, like out to a bar or pub. You know."

Harleen's eyes widened. Once she got out of high school, she basically stayed cooped up in an apartment, reading books thicker than a tire. Once in awhile she'd visit some friends, but not once had she went to a bar or pub. Not _once_.

Nor did she want to. Harleen was disgusted by beer, especially by drinkers. The beverage made your breath smell horrible, and it made you look so stupid. And if there was anything Harleen greatly despised, that was looking stupid. What was the point of getting drunk—where was the excitement; fun? She just couldn't understand.

"In a _long_ time." Harleen grumbled.

"Well tonight you're coming with me." Penny grinned. "I'll pick you up at your place. No, you know what? I'm going to come to your place and fix you up. You never look like you even brush your hair, no offense. Have you ever even worn makeup?"

Harleen diverted her eyes. Her looks really didn't matter to her. "I find other things important."

"Yeah and look where that got you. Look, you're a beautiful girl. Really. I can tell you have gorgeous blue eyes, but nobody would be able to see them if you're hiding them with those hideous glasses. No offense. And your skin is flawless, but a bit of powder would really a catch some attention."

_I'm not here to catch attention_, Harleen thought, suddenly shy. Since when did she feel shy? Oh yeah, since it came to reality of course. Or prom.

"So go home," Penny ordered softly, "and I'll call you when my shift is over. Alright? We're going to have some fun today."

Harleen opened her mouth to object—to deny Penny's companionship, but something caught in her throat. Something made her shut her mouth and grab her belongings. Something shut her mouth until she was walking to her car, and then she realized what trouble she got herself into.

She pressed her forehead against her car window and sighed. Today sure wasn't going well. The bad thing about drinking, for her, was because when she was drunk, she tended to lose her modesty. Big time.

She only drank twice. And they were both at high school parties. Almost everyone was drunk, and half naked. Harleen, of course, was completely naked and didn't even _mind_. Alcohol seemed to fog her mind, erasing all her morals and thoughts about how she should act. It made her feel hot and sexy, which definitely wasn't good at all.

And she didn't want to feel hot or sexy. Because she wasn't. Harleen peered into the window of her car, studying her reflection. A boring brunette doctor stared back at her with thick, heavy classes. Extremely thin cheeks stared back at her, offering no cute dimples or any sign of smile. She frowned. Penny was wrong. She surely wasn't beautiful. She had a small chest, a tiny butt, and had absolutely no curves.

"_You think you're so beautiful, don't ya Harleen?" _

Harleen shut her eyes, that voice echoing in her mind endlessly. It was her father. And then her voice chimed in her head—her 13 year-old defenseless cry.

"_Look Daddy, I'm a princess! I have the lipstick on and the pretty dress!" _

"_You look like nothing but a little whore!" _

She shook her head. Now was definitely wasn't the time to think about her father.

"Hey you," A voice sounded behind her. Harleen slowly peered over her shoulder, seeing a man dressed entirely in black with a mask covering his features. She held back a groan, noticing the silver gun in his gloved hands. "Give me your money."

_Oh the typical line. Give me your money. What next? _She thought bitterly, backing up from the car.

"Give me your purse, lady!" The man snarled, gesturing towards the purse in Harleen's hand.

_If only he knew I had nothing in this purse. I only carry it around for this kind of situation. My money's actually in the purse at home. _Harleen thought wisely, proud of being prepared.

"Fine, fine," Harleen said calmly, tossing her "empty" purse casually at the masked man. He caught it effortlessly, the gun still pointed in Harleen's direction.

_Wait,_ Harleen thought in surprise. _His gun isn't loaded…_

"Now stay where you are," He ordered, struggling to open the purse with one hand. Harleen calmed down, seeing that she was no longer in jeopardy. "Or I'll shoot you to kingdom come."

He finally got it open, and while he was peering into the empty purse, Harleen decided to act. She sprung forward and punched him fully in the jaw. Pain flared in her knuckle, but she ignored it and watched the man fall to the ground from the blow.

"What the—" he gasped, realizing he was tricked. Harleen stood over him calmly, holding out her hand for her purse. The man returned her purse reluctantly.

"Next time," Harleen told him smugly, "you should make sure your gun is even loaded."

"What the hell!" The man exclaimed. "You punch harder than my older brother!"

Harleen inwardly smiled, but she kept her face passive. "It's amazing what adrenaline does to you, isn't it?"

"No, you punched like.." The man was gaping in horror. "Who _are_ you?"

"I'm Doctor Harleen Quinzel."

* * *

Harleen found herself quite peeved that the man was so surprised when she punched him.

She sat on her couch, staring off into space. Why was it such a shock? Did she look weak? Did he think that because she was a young woman that she was _weak_?

_So what if I know how to fight? It's better than getting shot. _

Time passed progressively, and before Harleen knew it, her cell phone rang. She answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hey Harleen. It's me, Penny." Harleen mentally frowned. She forgot, because of the previous situation, that she was going to refuse to go out.

"Oh, hi. About earlier, I really don't feel like going out. I'm so tired."

Penny laughed. "Oh, girl, I'm already halfway to your hotel! What room are you?"

_How the heck does she know what hotel I'm in? _

"Room 21." Harleen said indifferently.

"Well I'll see you there in five minutes!" She hung up.

Harleen dropped the phone, not caring how it cracked. She buried her head in her hands. She really didn't feel like going out. Heck, she didn't even own anything meant for going out. All she had were clothes meant for work and such. This was going to be a disaster. A night she would regret.

A _nightmare_.

* * *

Penny was quite determined to get Harleen fixed up. She brought over an outfit for the young doctor, some makeup, and hair products.

The moment Penny walked in, Harleen knew perfectly well she had no choice but to go.

"Your hair is actually really healthy." Penny complimented Harleen as she brushed her brown locks. Harleen closed her eyes tightly, wincing occasionally when Penny brushed a bit too hard. Her hands were gripping tightly onto the arms of the chair. "Did you know you get bald faster if you put your hair up all the time?"

"Yes I knew that." Harleen eyed Penny vigilantly when Penny grabbed a curling iron. "Now don't worry—I'm an expert when it comes to curling irons. Just don't move, alright?"

Harleen found it very uncomfortable at first, hearing the steam come from her hair on account of the high temperature of the iron. But then she began to feel relaxed, and then found herself actually liking it how Penny ran her hands through her hair, which currently lacked its usual tangles.

She felt her hair brushing her shoulders, which was unusual for her. It wasn't as long as she remembered it, probably because it was curly from the work from Penny's hands.

And then Penny was crouching in front of her, with a powder brush in her hand. "Close your mouth and eyes." Harleen obeyed, and felt Penny brush all the powdery powder all over her face. At first it felt odd, and she wanted to just wash the entire gunk off. And then, when Penny was applying her eyeliner, she felt…different.

After half an hour of makeup applying and curling, Penny put a mirror in front of Harleen. Harleen was afraid to see what she looked like.

Her mouth dropped open. Her skin was flawlessly pale—absolutely gorgeous, adding to its texture. And her hair…her hair was the best part of her. It was in carefully formed curls, gently adding style to her skinny frame of her face. Part of her long bangs hung in her eyes, giving her a mysterious look. But her eyes…the eyeliner made the deep blue pop, and she knew just what her eyes looked like. Her lips were plump and glossy. A tint of blush was apparent on her cheeks.

Needless to say, Harleen was baffled beyond words. Who was that person she was staring at? She looked like a movie star! She certainly wasn't the psychiatrist working at Arkham Asylum! She couldn't be!

If anything, Harleen Quinzel, did indeed, looked hot _and_ sexy.

"Now," Penny said with a victorious smirk, "time to get dressed."

Minutes later, Harleen stood in front of a full-length mirror, looking at a crimson red shirt with black designs on one side. The shirt was a bit odd for her taste, but Harleen noticed that it matched her. Penny let her keep the shirt, saying it was absolutely perfect for her and the latest fashion, and let her wear some tight jeans. Harleen honestly didn't like the jeans. It felt like they would rip if she bent over.

"You look," Penny stated, "amazing. Seriously. That shirt looks so great on you! Good thing I buy off the internet."

Harleen held back a smile. She did look beautiful. And she liked it. She liked the makeup, the way her hair looked, and how the eyeliner made her eyes more apparent. Maybe she should buy herself some makeup…

Penny was decked out in a tight tank top and a mini skirt. Her hair was teased messily, and her eyes looked really smoky. Harleen personally thought she looked a bit skanky, but said nothing.

"Let's go." Penny finally said.

* * *

The bar was loud. _Very_ loud.

Harleen felt her hands trembling as they walked to the front. Even from the outside she could hear the pounding music.

"Right now it looks intimidating," Penny said. "But once we get inside and get you a beer, it'll be better. I promise."

Harleen really didn't like it when she walked in. People were brushing against her, dancing a bit too close, and the smell of alcohol hung in the air heavily. It looked smoky and disgusting.

They both sat down at a bar. Penny ordered two beers, and Harleen sat stiffly, perfect posture.

She looked out of place. Even in all the clothing and makeup, she still looked as sophisticated as ever. Her mood darkened. This was wrong. She should've never have come. She doesn't belong here. She belongs at her hotel, working on her career.

She took a sip of the beer. She winced. It burnt her throat. She took another drink. It still burned, but the burning lessened. She took another drink. Penny was talking to her, but Harleen zoned her out.

Soon Harleen ordered another drink. She felt light headed.

Then she ordered another. She felt weightless.

Another came. She drank. She felt…gorgeous. Sexy. Hot.

_Invincible. _

She took a long gulp, swaying a bit on the chair. Penny was now talking to some biker guy. Harleen's world tipped as she almost fell from the chair, but managed to regain her balance at the last second.

"Take it easy," The bartender said, giving Harleen a surprised look.

Harleen giggled. Since when did the world seem so _free_?

She took off her jacket.

Next she took off her glasses. Harleen told the bartender to watch them.

"If someone breaks them or you lose them," She told him, "I'll take _your_ eyes."

He nodded, now going pale.

Harleen giggled at his expression, finding it funny.

"You know what makes people tick?" She asked a random girl. The girl shrugged. "This." She made a goofy face, making her eyes go cross eyed. The girl walked off in a hurry as Harleen began giggling wildly.

That attracted some attention.

Harleen watched everyone's expression. Most were serious, deeply absorbed in a conversation, or just dazing out of it. A smile was imprinted on her face, her crimson red lipstick making her smile eerie. "You know what? I think everyone needs to put a _big_ smile on their face. Why so sad? _Smile_!" Harleen smiled bigger, showing off her pearly white teeth. "Everyone looks so sad! Did you know it takes more muscles to frown than to smile?"

Some people hurried past her, not bothering to even listen. Some, however, stayed to listen to the drunken woman's rant.

"Why be sad? No, no, you, uh, you know what the best, uh, medicine is?" Harleen said. Her voice was slurred from the alcohol. "_Laughter_. Trust, uh, me—it's works. It works _real_ good."

"Ma'am would you like something?" The bartender cut in. "Something to _eat_? I personally think you had enough beer."

"Food is good. I like it. I like it real good." Harleen broke off into another fit of laughter. "See? It's working!"

"Would you care to dance?" A man was suddenly behind Harleen. Harleen looked up to see a man with dark hair and a charming face. She grinned.

Why did he suddenly look so _handsome_, even though she didn't even know him?

Without even thinking, she fell from the chair, falling into the man's arms. She kissed him roughly, grabbing a tight hold of his collared shirt for better access. The alcohol was swarming through her head. She didn't even feel his lips moving against hers. Or how he grabbed her waist and pressed her closer. Nor did she feel his tongue dancing with hers. She didn't even have the chance to smell his masculine cologne.

"Hmmm," He hummed against her lips. Harleen broke away, giggling crazily, hugging him tightly. He sure was handsome. Well dressed, and a polite aura to him.

"What's your name?" He asked her kindly.

"Who cares?" She shot back, twirling in the air. She felt like she was walking on the moon—no gravity there to hold her down. "A name is a name. Doesn't mean anything."

"But a name represents a reputation." He shot back. "My name's Bruce Wayne."

The world stilled. Harleen froze, the music seemed louder than it previously did. As if the man was on fire, Harleen shot away from him, gaping in pure shock.

Bruce. Bruce Wayne? _The_ Bruce Wayne? The rich and famous guy that owned that entire business?

She touched her lips with her index finger, shocked beyond belief. Was she seriously making out with him moments before—with this _millionaire? _

No way.

"Told you." He stated. "Now I don't believe we're done here." He smiled a smile that sent Harleen over the edge. How could his smile fascinate her so much? How his eyed crinkled, or how his teeth were perfectly in line?

Bile was rising to her throat. "Gotta go," Was all she said before Harleen dashed for the bathroom. She shoved a woman away, accidentally knocking her into the wall roughly, before practically diving into a stall. She didn't even have time to close the door before she threw up into the toilet.

The night suddenly didn't seem so great.

She began crying as she threw up. Her stomach lurched, and her entire body jerked as she unloaded all the alcohol she drank. Her hands were shaking. Her lips were dry. Her hair kept getting in the way, and she had to hold it back.

Finally, after an eternity, Harleen stood up and sobbed into her hands. How could she have made such an idiot of herself? She should've never have came here in the first place—nonetheless drink all that beer!

"_Have a sip, Harleen." _Her father's harsh voice sounded mockingly. _"You'll like it. It's beer. It makes __**everything**__ better." _

_You're wrong_, she thought miserably. Her stomach was empty. Now she really felt terrible.

She limped out of the bathroom, not bothering to look in the mirror. She didn't care how _good_ she looked. Looks mean nothing to her—they never did.

She was surprised to see that man waiting for her. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She told him weakly.

"Would you like a ride home?"

"No." _I'll have to call a taxi. _Penny was nowhere to be found.

"Fine. I won't bother you." He said. "But tell me one thing. What's your name?"

Her head ached. Harleen desperately wanted to go back to the hotel and drink some water. She wanted to be somewhere where she wasn't confused.

"Harleen." Was all she said, before she made her way out of the bar.

_I was right. This did turn out to be a nightmare. _

_

* * *

_

A/N: Haha I HAD to put Bruce Wayne into this. It's quite obvious he really doesn't seriously like Harleen, he only wanted sex and stuff ;p But that's how he is anyway ^-^ I love Bruce Wayne though! Haha not as much as the Joker ;p Anyway, thanks for the awesome reviews! Seriously! And sorry for the long wait, I've been sooo busy :D Chapter soon to come! And sorry for the Joker not being in this, he'll be in the rest though! Just keep in mind I want to develop Harleen's character ;)

~YolandaFriella


	5. Feisty

Mad Quinn

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to the movie TDK and the comic series.

Origins of Harley Quinn for chapter five: Harleen Quinzel was once a career-oriented psychologist whose life took a radical turn when she chose to spend a semester interning at Arkham Asylum.

* * *

The Joker was being led back to his cell.

"Ya know," The Joker started, "a typical stereotype would imagine a shrink as an old man with a long beard and beady eyes that never miss _anything_. Some old man with no life, other than devoting his entire life and being into the asylum, with a terrible way of seeing people. No genuine sympathy for his patients. No sense of compassion. A man that has seen nothing but the worst of humanity—only the _insane_ part. Boarded up in a bar-less cage, and completely and utterly obsessed in something they just can't understand."

The guard stayed silent. The Joker sighed, not liking how hard the guard's grip was on his handcuffed wrists.

"And, as the usual, this didn't surprise me. Instead of getting what I expected, I got exactly what I _didn't_ expect!" The Joker exclaimed, now jittery with excitement. "A young, inexperienced doctor with absolutely no idea what she's doing!"

The guard liked Harleen Quinzel. She seemed like a headstrong woman, and almost all the guards had high regards for her.

He held back the urge to slam this loony into the wall. "_Doctor_ Harleen Quinzel knows what she's doing. She's an intelligent woman."

"From what I saw, she's as green as a wild mustang!" The Joker slowed his pace, much to the guard's disappointment. "Did you see her face when she saw me? I thought she was going to faint! At first I thought, 'Lady, you have the wrong room.' But then, she told me she was my _doctor_! Doctor! Can you believe that? What kind of shrink is scared of their patient? Aren't these people supposed to be trained in hiding their emotions or whatever around their patients?"

"It'll be a _great_ idea if you shut up." The guard replied stiffly.

"And here I was expecting an old guy with no life." The Joker smiled smugly. "Ya know, this might just turn out into something I _didn't_ expect. Something _interesting_."

"Look, _Clown_, I already don't like you in the first place. Don't give me another reason not to like you."

The Joker diverted his eyes. "Aw, you don't like me? Well, what did I ever do to _you_?" The guard said nothing in reply. "Don't tell me you hate me when I did absolutely nothing to you personally! Let me guess. Did I kill any of your friends?"

"No."

"Then what _did_ I do? Hmmm?"

"It's what you do that makes me dislike you." The guard said. "The _things_ you do."

"Oh ho ho! We have a judger over her!" Suddenly, the guard didn't have time to let out a grunt when the Joker, with unexpected strength, shoved him against the wall. The guard hit his head and slumped to the ground, barely conscious. The Joker grinned down at him. "Now, if there's anything I _don't_ like, it's someone who reads a book by its cover."

"You're crazy. You're a crazy lunatic that's probably a drug addict!"

The Joker struggled in his restraints to no avail. He snorted in discontent. "Hush, you. I'm working on something here."

It was then the guard realized the Joker was trying to escape. His eyes got wide.

But the Joker was watching the man's expression and knew what he was about to do. Quick as ever, the Joker shot out his leg and kicked the guard in the face.

He went out like a light. The Joker's smile widened. Now all he had to do was get out of here.

Looking both ways down the hall and having no idea where to go, the Joker began hurrying. The lights above him were dim, and one was flickering rapidly above him.

Nobody knew what he was doing. And that's the way he liked it.

He turned a corner. Went through a door. Jogged through a curve. Looked out a window. Walked through another door and—

-ran into three guards.

_Holy jester! _

The guards immediately knew who he was and lunged, at the same time. The Joker quickly backed up, but lost his balance because of his restrained hands, and fell backwards on his butt. Quick to act, he scrambled to his feet. But it wasn't quick enough.

One guard grabbed his wrists; the other kneed him in the gut. The Joker broke in wild laughter as the pain flared in his gut.

_Oh how I missed that! _

The man was panting, giving the Joker a crazed look. He drew back his fists and froze; wondering if he should punch the Joker. But the Joker only grinned crookedly, giving the man a daring look.

_I do wonder what it's like to fight someone who actually enjoys pain. When will they learn that's all I look for—that's all I want? _

The Joker's vision had dots blinking everywhere. Vaguely, he was aware of someone giving him a shot in the back of the neck. His legs buckled. His head drooped.

His world went black.

* * *

Harleen woke up the next morning with a huge headache that seemed to throb with every breath. The headache only screamed with every single sound.

She groaned and rolled over in her bed. She was still wearing the high heels, and her hair smelled strongly of hair spray from the night before. She barely had time to wash off her makeup before passing out in her bed from pure fatigue.

Right beside her head, on the side table beside her bed, Harleen's alarm clock screamed in her ear.

Finally, after moments of silent anguish, she turned the alarm off with a simple swipe of the hand. But still, she stayed motionless in the bed.

_Doctor Quizel. _

Harleen rolled over, accidently falling over the edge of the bed. She hit the ground with a loud _THUD_. Shaking her head, blinking rapidly, it took a few moments for Harleen to finally wake up.

She didn't care about work today. She'd go and just get it over with. Maybe afterwards she could go do her nails or something like that.

_I have all this money, _she thought miserably, _and I need to spend some of it. When was the last time I actually got my nails manicured? _

She found a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Then she simply ran a brush through her wild locks, and since she didn't have time to take a shower, she simply threw her hair in a messy bun. She stared at her reflection in disappointment.

_Yeah. Maybe I'll get a haircut. _

Five minutes later Harleen was driving to work. She drove like a zombie, only paying attention to what was needed. She nearly missed a stop sign and almost bumped into a car from behind.

This definitely wasn't her day. Everything seemed like a blur.

_Ugh. Now I know the true pain of a hangover. Not to self: never drink beer again. _

She pulled into her usual parking spot. Practically dragging her feet, Harleen walked into the asylum.

Penny was smiling happily—perfectly content with no hangover. But the moment the two met eyes, Penny lost her smile.

"Why you look like a zombie!" She cried in shock.

"Thanks." Harleen grumbled sarcastically. She inwardly winced. Was it just her or was Penny talking _really_ loud?

Penny was talking to her, but Harleen easily zoned her out. Instead, she focused on getting her uniform on. Then, much to Penny's shock, she simply left the room.

And found herself standing in front of Mr. Todd's door. She knocked, and he told her to open it.

"Mr. Todd," She started, "am I required to visit the Joker again today?"

The name threw realization at her like a bulky rock. Suddenly she felt queasy.

"Why not?" Mr. Todd smiled. "Hey you look really great. You look like…well less tense."

Harleen sighed. "Thanks." _I always want to look tense, don't I? _

"Well I'll tell the guards to let him into his room. Oh, and Doctor Quinzel? Last night he attempted an escape."

That caught her attention. "Oh really?" _I'll talk to him about that first._

"Yes. He knocked one guard unconscious, but ran into three other guards. Thank God he didn't get very far."

Harleen pursed her lips. "I'll talk to him about that."

"Yes!" Mr. Todd clapped his hand gaily. "I love your style, Miss Quinzel! Oh, I mean Doctor Quinzel. Don't hold back from him—and don't be afraid."

Harleen felt suddenly mad. Angry. And she felt like lecturing someone. She took a deep breath. The anger inside of her was dominating the fear.

Minutes later, she walked into the session room. The Joker was sitting in the chair, his hands tied behind the chair, and his lanky legs sprawled out in front of him. He was whistling some unknown tune. But as she walked in, he whistled a low note and held it out.

She rolled her eyes.

"Good morning, Mr. Joker." She greeted politely.

"Morning, Miss _Quizel_."

"Please refer to me as _Doctor Quinzel._" She replied stiffly, taking her usual seat across from him. She studied his raw face, with no makeup on. "Where'd your makeup go?"

The Joker narrowed his eyes. "It's not _makeup_. It's war paint."

"Oh excuse me." Harleen swallowed, nervousness creeping up her arm. "So I heard some very interesting news."

"About the Batman?" He lightened up instantly.

"No." He frowned. "But, about last night. Tell me what happened last night."

"Whatever do you mean?" The Joker blinked innocently.

"I'm going to get to the point." Harleen set down her pencil. "You tried to escape last night."

"Darn I thought they'd keep that a secret." The Joker mumbled.

"Well they didn't. Why did you do that? What motivated you?"

The Joker clicked his tongue. "Simple. I don't like it here. If I can get out, I'm getting out."

"We didn't make this place for your liking. We don't care if you like it or not. The reason you're here is because you committed so many crimes and—"

"—I'm messed up in the head. Yes, yes, I know." The Joker cut her off.

"You're not messed up. You're just ill."

"So how come I get such a _young_ doctor?" The Joker drawled. Harleen froze when his eyes looked her over, much like a fox would. "Hmm, aren't you _beautiful_? Your husband is a lucky man."

"I don't have a husband, nor am I involved in any kind of relationship." Harleen replied uneasily. _Why is he looking at me like that? _

"Yesterday you didn't look like this." The Joker pointed out. "Today you look….different. Something about you…"

"Okay, enough of this." Harleen opened her tiny notebook. "This isn't about me. This is about _you_."

The Joker simply grinned, winking at the young doctor suggestively. Harleen held back a shiver.

"So, where shall we start?" Harleen tapped her chin with the pencil. "Oh! Let's continue off from yesterday. So, Mr. joker, what is your _real_ name?"

"I already told you."

"You never told me."

"Hey aren't you supposed to be recording this?" The Joker changed the subject. "On all the movies I saw, the psychiatrist always records the sessions."

Harleen went along with his question. "I don't record the sessions. See this notebook? I write down important notes instead of simply recording the session. I find that too easy and something very lazy to do."

The Joker nodded in understanding.

"So," Harleen wrote something down, "how old are you?"

"I'll give you a hint. It's from 10 years-old to 100. You decide." The Joker smirked.

Harleen stared at him with a deadpan expression. "Well that sure narrows it down."

"Oohh is that sarcasm I see?"

"I'm guessing you're around 28 to 30 years-old."

"How old are _you_? I'm guessing you're around 18 or 20."

Harleen found herself blushing. _What? Blushing? _

"No, I'm 27 years-old. I know I look much older than that, but…"

"No way jose! You don't look a day over 20!"

"Thanks." Harleen shifted in her chair awkwardly. "So, since I told you how old I was, how 'bout you tell me how old _you_ are?"

"I already gave you a hint."

"That's not a hint."

"Pfft." The Joker averted his eyes. "Tough crowd here."

The tension in the room was thickening. Harleen sighed, writing something else down.

"Okay, shall we move on?" Harleen said. "Let's talk about your childhood."

"Let's talk about _your_ childhood." The Joker shot back.

"I'm guessing you don't have many people asking you personal questions like this." Harleen said.

"You've guessed right. Usually they always ask about my scars." The Joker smiled broadly. "Wanna know how I got em'?"

"No. Right now I want to know about your parents." The Joker's smile was wiped from his face in seconds.

"I GOT IT!" He exclaimed, jumping in his chair. Harleen held back a squeak from the sudden loud noise. "I GOT IT, I GOT IT!"

"What?"

"You aren't wearing glasses! That's why you look so different!"

Harleen gasped and touched the area where her glasses were supposed to be. Just like the Joker said, her glasses were gone.

Her heart dropped.

_Oh God! I left my glasses at the bar with the bartender! Oh no!_

"How come you aren't all sensitive and stuff?" The Joker said accusingly. "Don't you need those glasses to, ya know, _see_? Now I'm no eye doctor, but I do know for a fact that it's very important to see."

"I've misplaced my glasses." Harleen said quickly. "I'm wearing contacts."

"Liar."

Harleen narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me?"

"You're lying. I don't see any contacts in your eyes."

"How could you possibly see them all the way from where you're sitting?"

"I have good eyes." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Hey, wanna know what I just noticed? You have really pretty eyes. Normally I like green-eyed beauties, but your eyes have definitely caught my attention. How come you wear glasses? Why would you _hide_ eyes like _that_?"

"I don't hide my eyes!" Harleen's voice was rising.

"Eh, it's alright. Everyone has something to hide. I mean, I hide my scars with my war paint."

Forgetting about the entire conversation, Harleen hurried to write that down. _Jackpot baby! This is gold! _

"So you wear your 'war paint' to hide your scars? Are you ashamed of them?"

"Are you a lesbian?"

The room was dead silent.

"_What_?"

The Joker shrugged. "It's a simple yes or no question. It's not a test—you didn't have to study or anything."

"My morals and status mean nothing at the moment." Harleen said frigidly. "I will ask the questions here, understand?"

The Joker saluted her dramatically.

"So, how long have you been in Gotham?"

"A long time."

"How long?"

"_Very_ long."

"Could you give me a number?"

"Do you wear makeup?" The Joker suddenly asked.

Harleen inwardly groaned. _He always changes the subject when an awkward conversation comes_. Realizing that was pretty good, Harleen scribbled that down.

"No. I don't wear makeup." She replied simply. "So anyway, what is your opinion of Gotham?"

"She's a jungle full of monkeys that need to know their place."

"A jungle? How come you refer to Gotham as a girl?"

"Yes a jungle, I don't remember stuttering when I told ya that. Gotham isn't just a place. To me, she's more."

"Care to enlighten me?" Harleen never stopped writing. This was really useful information.

"No. I'll save that for some other time."

Harleen stopped writing. "But I think now would be a fantastic time."

"Everything happens at a certain time." The Joker shifted in his seat. "What's your full name, Doc?"

Harleen blinked. "Harleen Quinzel."

"Harleen, huh?" The Joker said. "I haven't heard that name since…well…I've never heard that before."

Harleen glanced at the clock. "Oh gosh. Look how the time has passed! I have to go—it's almost my lunch break."

"Ya know, as shocking as it is, it was _very_ interesting to talk to you, Doc."

Harleen show the relaxed man a strict stare. "I told you to call me _Doctor Quinzel_. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Is that a rule?"

"Now it is."

The Joker snorted. "Didn't ya know that rules were meant to be broken?"

"Not this rule." She gathered all her supplies.

The Joker simply watched her. "I can't help but wonder why you're not involved with anyone. Would you—"

"—I already explained to you that I won't tell you about my personal involvement. I'm not here to help you on relationships. I'm here to help your well-being. Understand me?"

"I can speak English ya know."

"Oh really?" Harleen grinned to herself, hiding it from the Joker. "What else can you speak?"

"Portuguese, Spanish, French, English, and a little bit of Italian." The Joker grinned.

_Wow. That's more than I can speak. _

"Good day." Harleen told him, walking out of the room.

_Okay, now I have a __**real**__ problem on my hands._

_

* * *

_

He seems to conveniently change the subject whenever a tough subject comes up.

Doesn't like to talk about his past.

His age is still unknown, and he doesn't seem ready (at all) to share. 

Continues to claim he has told me his name, when he still hasn't. 

Wears the "war paint" to hide his scars. Apparently he's self-conscious about them. 

Harleen sat at her desk, mulling over the conversation she just had with the Joker. The notes she just took were splayed out before her.

She read over every single one of them. Then read them again.

"Oh noodles," She whispered in aggravation, rubbing her temples, "I've read these notes at least ten times, and I still don't know anything about him! Well, all I do know is he loves knives (obviously), and wears the makeup (not war paint, that's just a ridiculous excuse) to hide the scars. That's it. No name. No age. _Nothing_."

_Well,_ she thought to herself. _It's only the second day. I always have tomorrow to figure out something else. _

She was so caught up in her work that she forgot she planned to go out after work. Harleen sighed, looking out the window. It was dark—which meant it was way too late to get her nails done.

"Harleen?" She looked to see Penny peering in her door. "You've been here all day, except for lunch break. Aren't you gonna leave, girl?"

"Yeah. Let me just put everything away."

"Oh and sorry for leaving you last night." Penny smiled. "But I met this one blonde and…"

"It's alright." Harleen took out her ponytail, her hair falling past her shoulders. She shook her head, feeling the stress brush away for a moment. "I left later anyway."

"You didn't meet anyone special?"

"No." Harleen froze. _Dear God. I just remembered that I made out with Bruce Wayne last night! _"Holy fuck!"

"Whoa!" Penny exclaimed in surprise. "What happened? You _never_ cuss!"

"It's just…" Harleen felt her entire face drain and her cheeks blazed in humiliation. _Gosh, how embarrassing! _"Well, I forgot that I, uh, left my glasses at the bar."

"Honey, everyone knows you're not blind. You can see perfectly! I just don't know why you insist on wearing those God-awful glasses!"

"I happen to like those glasses." Harleen grumbled, the blush only getting worse.

"Don't worry about it! You have gorgeous eyes. Seriously. I wish you knew just how pretty you are without having to hide anything." Penny sighed. "Well, I better go. See ya later, girl."

Just as Penny closed the door, Harleen groaned in mortification. Bruce Wayne! _The_ famous Bruce Wayne! She _kissed_ him! She _touched _him! She _spoke_ to him!

Heck, she _saw_ him!

_I'm such a dope, _she thought. _He probably doesn't even remember me, but still…how stupid could I be? I should've known who he was! Everyone knows who he is! But why was he at a bar? Isn't he too rich for that? Hell, he could buy the entire place if he wanted! And why did he bother kissing me—nonetheless noticing me? _

"I'm ugly," She told herself. "I have enough proof of that. I just wish…"

She pondered over ways to improve her looks, and finally just sighed from the whole ordeal.

"Why do bad things always happen to good people?" She asked no one in particular.

Only silence answered her.

"Oh, ho ho!" The Joker greeted her as she strode into the room. "Why, look who it is! It's my _favorite_ person in the world."

Harleen rolled her eyes. "Hello to you, too."

"Look here, Doc. I had this dream last night." The Joker began. "Wanna know how it went? Well I'm gonna tell ya anyway. I was in my room, when—suddenly—the door opened with a _BANG_! I remember thinking, 'what's goin' on?' And guess who I see? Ha ha, well I see, none other than _YOU!_ Yes you. You walked right on in, but wanna know what was _interesting_? You had a _beautiful_ smile on your face!" He tilted his head so inspect Harleen. "Such a shame you don't ever smile like that. I knew instantly it was a dream! I just, uh, wish I could see you smile like that again. If only once…"

Harleen was interested in everything he was saying. He dreamt of her? That was strangely flattering. That meant he thought of her. Thought of her _smiling_.

She frowned. He _shouldn't_ be thinking of her. He should hate her.

Oh well. No big deal. It was just a dream.

"So I'm guessing you slept well?" Harleen asked.

The Joker smirked. "Oh I _did_! Because, after you smiled at me like that in my dream, we, uh, had a little fun."

Harleen dropped her pencil in pure shock. Shaking, she scrambled to pick it up.

"W-what?" She stammered.

"Wanna know what we did?" _HELL YES! _

"No. We should really talk about something else." Harleen felt herself blush.

"But this is important! I'll fill ya in on all the _details_. It was action-packed! Mind-boggling!" He whistled. "Boy I haven't had that much _fun_ in a long time!"

Harleen felt like she was about to faint.

The Joker was watching her every expression, enjoying her horrification. "We played cards."

_Oh…_

The Joker shot her a look. "Why, uh, Doc? What were _you_ thinking? Hmmm?"

"I thought we played Tic-Tac-Toe." Harleen replied quickly.

The Joker burst out laughing. Not just laughing—but really laughing. It wasn't a laugh that was contagious—it sent a shiver down her spine. Very eerie.

"T-that's a good one!" He said in-between laughter.

Harleen felt a sense of pride. It's been awhile since she made someone laugh like _that_. In fact, she didn't remember ever making someone laugh like that. He obviously thought what she said was _hilarious_. Unknown to anyone but herself, Harleen smiled and laughed.

Only the Joker saw. And he laughed harder.

Pretty soon, they both were laughing. Harleen felt her eyes water—she was laughing so hard.

_Wow! This feels really good! I haven't laughed like that in ages…_

Finally they stopped. And by the time Harleen was calm, the Joker was still chuckling, shaking his head.

Harleen grinned over at him, feeling completely at ease. For a moment—a split second—she looked at him through different eyes. She didn't notice his scars. She didn't remember how many people he's killed, or the crimes he's done in the past. She didn't remember how nuts he was to ordinary people.

Something _more_.

"I'm glad you slept well." Harleen told him. "I wish I could sleep well."

The Joker lifted his eyebrow. "Oh? How come, uh, that you don't sleep well, Doc?"

_I should remind him to call me Doctor Quinzel…Oh what the heck. He can call me that. I don't care right now. _

"See, I'm staying in a hotel at the moment." Harleen explained. "And people aren't exactly respectful towards their neighbors. Especially if they have kids."

"How come you're staying at a hotel?"

"Because I don't live here. I live in New York, but I came here to learn more about psychology."

"Oohh, I see. Is New York nice?"

_Hell no. My parents live there. _

"I like Gotham better."

"How come?"

Harleen swallowed. "I just do. I can't really put my finger on it…but I do."

"So, Doc, do ya have any siblings?"

"No. I'm an only child."

"So you're spoiled?"

Harleen diverted her eyes. "Not exactly."

The room was so silent, and the way the Joker was gazing at Harleen made her heart beat. His voice was so mesmerizing and soft…

"Have you ever been…abused?"

Harleen quickly looked away. She refused to look the Joker in the eye. The tension they just took away by laughing was back; ten-fold.

Her throat closed up.

"_HARLEEN! Get the fuck over here! Open that God damn door! Daddy would never hurt ya!"_

Tears sprang in her eyes.

"_Daddy! Nooo! Please leave me alone! I just wanna play dress up with Mommy's makeup!"_

Her eyes met the Joker's by accident. He knew. It was like he saw her entire life through her eyes. Never before has Harleen felt so…_exposed_.

"_I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" _

Harleen abruptly stood up when a single tear escaped her eye. The chair knocked over, and she didn't bother picking it back up. Without another word, she ran from the room, barely picking up her supplies in the process.

And the Joker watched her the _entire_ time.

* * *

_I'm so gonna lose my job_, Harleen immediately thought as she ran out of the building. She didn't bother going into her car.

She had to get away. Get away from everything. If only for a little while…

She didn't know where she was going, nor did she care.

"_Harleen, baby? Stay away from Daddy, okay? Promise me you'll do that for me." _

She tripped over a twig like a klutz and went falling to the ground. She must've scraped her chin in the process, because she felt something wet dribble down her chin.

"_Why? Doesn't Daddy love me?" _

_Doesn't he love me? _

_Doesn't he? _

_Love? _

_No,_ Harleen thought bitterly. _You've vowed to never ponder over love, Harleen. You know perfectly well how much love hurts. How it never really pays off. What a scam it is. Don't even think about it! Just remember what it did to your parents! _

Love is nothing but a lie. A big fat lie that seems to hide behind even more lies.

Harleen just lay there. But she didn't care.

Not. One. Bit.

* * *

A/N: I don't really have much to say now. I'll basically be repeating what I said for the previous chapters. Ya know, stuff like, please leave a review, I loved all of your reviews, and I enjoyed writing this chapter. Anyway, please review if you have time and I hope you enjoyed it! There's more to come!

~YolandaFriella


	6. Please read Important

Dear readers,

Yes it has been a long time before I last updated. I am here to tell you that this story is not over. I have moved to another account called SmilinForYa for my own account got hacked, and it'll VERY rarely let me login into my YolandaFriella account. So I'm perminantely switching to my other account for good.

I have another story called _Harlequins Don't Cry_ on my new account. That story will have THREE parts. This entire story, will be linked with that story. I'll have some parts of this into that one. However, the Harlequins Don't Cry story is Harley's origin, from a teenager. That's part one. So Harley's past is different than her past in Mad Quinn.

In Harlequin's Don't Cry, Harley was never abused. Her father wasn't an alcoholic. She had loving parents who loved her dearly. The only bad thing was that they wanted her to be someone she wasn't. That's where she became who she grew up to be, in points in her life. Anyway, like I said, I'm not going to put every single detail of this story into that one. But once part two comes, which is where it explains how Harleen became a psychologist and then meeting the Joker, I will use a lot of scenes from this story. It just won't be the same. Harleen will be a bit different, since her father was never abusive, but overall she'll still be who she is. It's hard to explain.

I encourage you to look at _Harlequins Don't Cry_, and if you like it, wait for me to get to part two where Harleen meets the Joker. It'll basically pick up from where I left off in _Mad Quinn_.

I love this story. I love it so much that I'm going to use Harleen's conversations with the Joker in the other story. Please check it out, it'll start out slow but once it gets started it'll get good. Way better than this one.

Thank you for all the reviews but I can no longer use this account, which means I cannot update this story. But like I said, this story will be in my other Harley origin story.

Thank you for everything. From now on, I am now _SmilinForYa_, on that account.

Can't wait till part 2! I'll hopefully see you all there!


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